I wish I were yellow like you

The bus hadn't been yellow since many years ago, when we were elbows deep in glue and dreams, sticking together magazine cut outs for our futures, as if they were skin to our souls.

They told us, 'to find our feet.'

They told us, 'to look to the sky.'

They told us, 'not to be afraid: the world is strange beyond the yellow because we are strangers to it.'

But, what if we are the strange ones? Or what if we are the ones who make the world strange? What if we turn our yellow into black. Suck colors from truth. Stop talking because of the noise.

'Hello'

And there you are. Someone I was supposed to know. I wish you knew:

I wish I were yellow like you.

Two bus seats, one quiet fool, waiting for our stops. I pulled the signal at Clairview and you at Granville, but we both never got off.

'We're not really strangers', said the boy on the bus. 'The only ones who are strangers are those who shut their eyes.'

And what about me? Open eyes, but shut mouth.

I wish I were yellow like you.